


In A Hurry

by Jukebox Hero (LucysPromDress)



Series: A Little Bit of Destiel [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bank Robbery, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, M/M, Married Castiel/Dean Winchester, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2020-01-01 06:55:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18330896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucysPromDress/pseuds/Jukebox%20Hero
Summary: Married couple Dean and Cas Winchester's lives aren't as average as they seem.*Part of the 30 Day OTP -- Destiel Drabble Challenge!**All works are stand-alone unless noted.





	In A Hurry

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1 prompt is 'a selfie together'.  
> Enjoy!

It was a little past a quarter to five in the evening, almost closing time for the business that resided in the old building. The parking lot was nearly empty, a few cars scattered around that belonged to the employees that got stuck with closing up, and just behind it, hidden from view, the black Impala that belonged to Dean and Cas. Mostly Dean — Cas was a horrible driver who paid more attention to anything else around him except for the road.

A few weeks ago a long scratch had appeared — _mysteriously_ — on the passenger side door just after Cas had driven her a couple of blocks away to a convenience store to pick up some ice to keep the beer in the cooler cold. Didn’t say a word about it to Dean. Didn’t even seem to know it was there. So he was banned. Silently, quietly, secretly banned. Of course Dean wasn’t actually going to _tell_ him. He was happy to drive his husband anywhere he wanted to go, pleased as punch to pick him up and wake up an hour before he needed to so that he could drop Cas off at work. _Pleased as punch_. Baby deserved better than grocery cart scratches and dings because someone had no depth perception and parked too close to the garage wall. Banned.

Except for today. Cas driving was sort of necessary.

Though he had driven them at speeds that would make a Nascar driver proud, Dean was sure that they were going to be late, that they wouldn’t make it in and they’d have to put this off until next week. Jesus, he was going to cry. As soon as they were out of the car he grabbed Cas’ hand and hurried across the parking lot, nearly sagging with relief when they found that the back door was slightly ajar, thanks to the manager that smoked like a chimney.

There was even a smoking butt still in the ashtray near the door.

Gross.

Fourteen minutes.

Before they entered the building Cas fished a small black box, something that looked similar to a car alarm, from his pocket and pressed a button on the bottom, watching as the cameras that lined the hall blinked from green to red and green again.

The loop was set.

Damn, they had to be in and out of here. There was a casserole in the oven at the house, and Dean couldn’t remember if he’d turned off the heat off or not. A quick in and out. It was planned. It was going to be perfect.

He hoped.

“Oh, come on, Cas,”

“Come on, _Dean_. It’s a big moment for us. One little selfie to commemorate it,”

“Dude, really, we're literally about to commit a crime, we don’t need picture proof,”

Cas was adamant. Still and silent and blue eyes trained expectantly on Dean. After a second, Dean rolled his eyes and gave in, leaned over to his side and smiled at the phone held in front of them as the picture was taken. With a satisfied smirk, Cas pulled the black ski mask down over his face as he took the semi-automatic shotgun Dean was holding out for him and pushed the metal door open forcefully with his back. The pair burst into the room, cocking rifles and pointing them at the surprised employees.

“On the floor, fuckers! Move it! This is a robbery!” Damn, Cas’ voice went deep when he yelled like that. Fucking _hot_.

Thirteen minutes.

The small bank was in chaos. The three remaining employees that had busied themselves with tidying and locking up were now a mess of squeals and creaking knees as they followed Cas’ directive and laid face down on the carpeted floor. The older than God bank security guard had already sat himself down in a chair off to the side because — well, because he was too old for this shit. The flashlight he wore on his belt didn’t even have batteries.

“That’s right, pops,” Cas said, a bit muffled through his mask as he trained his gun on the women lying down. “Don’t be a hero. This shit’s insured,”

Dean jumped over the counter and set about herding the manager back to the safe where they knew the big score would be. They’d done this enough to know that the cash in the drawers was never anything to get excited about, and nine times out of ten there was a dye pack in there that ruined everybody’s day.

Cas and Dean had done their homework, they had _moved_ here almost a year ago just for this bank. It was the least protected of any bank they had ever worked, but in that safe was the biggest haul they would ever see, courtesy of an oil baron from Texas. A small town obscure bank in the sticks would be the safest, most inconspicuous place to store his millions. Not overseas. Not New York. Not in a mattress. Nowhere, Kansas, and Dean and Castiel Winchester thanked you kindly for leaving your 3.2 million dollars in that safe.

Eight minutes.

Their bags full of the unmarked cash, and the employees locked safely away in the safe — and not a cop in the town even suspicious that the bank was being robbed, Dean and Cas took a few seconds to dance in celebration in the empty lobby before they took off running, out the same way they had come in, and back to the Impala that waited, hidden for them in the woods just beyond the parking lot.

Everything went into the false bottom of the trunk, covered neatly by a spare tire and a few random tools that Dean kept in the back. By the time they fastened their seat-belts and got on the road, the pair had completely ditched their 'secret identities' as bank robbers — dark shirts were replaced with neat button downs, messy hair was calmed. They were once again the respectable first-grade teacher and his dashing husband, the soft-spoken librarian.

4:54 P.M.

The biggest score of their lives and six minutes to spare before closing time and anyone got any suspicions that something was the slightest bit hinky with the bank. There would be a big to-do when it was found out, an hour at the latest before the night security came and noticed that the entire staff was in the safe. Gloves, so no fingerprints, faces and hair and eyes were covered well, no DNA nor could they be picked out of a lineup. Cameras were on a twelve-second loop of the empty lobby.

Perfect. It was _perfect_.

“The lighting in the hall was kind of perfect,” Cas’ interjection interrupted Dean’s thoughts, and he turned his head to see him holding up his cell to show him a picture. “We have to keep this one. You can’t even tell where we are,”

 

 

“We’re in the hallway behind a bank that’s about to be robbed, Cas,” Dean was shaking his head. “Some eagle-eyed Barney Fife can get his hands on that and — no evidence, you know that,”

Cas didn’t respond but rolled his eyes and huffed, in Cas speak that meant Dean had a point and it was well taken.

“Did you leave the oven on at home? It’s been about an hour —,”

“I don’t know. There was a lot going on, I was multitasking,” It was Dean’s turn to huff, and his foot pressed harder on the accelerator, speeding the car up as they got onto the freeway.

“You were sneaking donuts,” Cas said, a smile on his face as he unbuckled his seat belt and moved to the center of their car, pressing in tightly to Dean, whose arm wrapped easily around Cas and tugged him a little closer. “If we see smoke in the distance I guess we’ll know for sure.”


End file.
